* * * * *

We met a sailor on the street, who, though at first a stranger, soon
became our friend and, with the quick hospitality of the sea, steered us
to a pub known as the Green Emerald, bought us drinks, and introduced us
to Mother Conarty, the proprietress.

"I'll ship ye out all right, but where's your dunnage?"

We confessed that we had run away from our ships down at Sydney.

The old sailor had spoken of Mother Conarty as rough-mannered, but a
woman with "a good, warm heart."

She proved it by taking us in to board, with no dunnage for her to hold
as security.

"Oh, they're good lads, I'm sure," vouched our sailor-friend, speaking
of us as if we had been forecastle mates of his for twenty voyages on
end ... the way of the sea!

Now Mother Conarty was not stupid. She was a great-bodied, jolly
Irishwoman, but she possessed razor-keen, hazel eyes that narrowed on us
a bit when she first saw us. But the woman in her soon hushed her
passing suspicions. For Hoppner was a frank-faced, handsome lad, with
wide shoulders and a small waist like a girl's. It was Hoppner's good
looks took her in. She gave us a room together.

* * * * *

There was a blowsy cheeked bar-maid, Mother Conarty's daughter. She
knew well how to handle with a few sharp, ironic remarks anyone who
tried to "get fresh" with her ... and if she couldn't, there were plenty
of husky sailormen about, hearty in their admiration for the resolute,
clean girl, and ready with mauling fists.

* * * * *

"Mother Conarty's proud o' that kid o' hers, she is."

"And well she may be!"

* * * * *

"I've been thinkin' over you b'yes, an' as ye hain't no dunnage wit' ye,
I'm thinkin' ye'll be workin' fer yer board an' room."

"We're willing enough, mother," I responded, with a sinking of the
heart, while Hoppner grimaced to me, behind her back.

We scrubbed out rooms, and the stairs, the bar, behind the bar, the
rooms back and front, where the sailors drank. We earned our board and
room ... for a few days.

* * * * *

At the Green Emerald I met my first case of delirium tremens. And it was
a townsman who had 'em, not a sailor. The townsman was well-dressed and
well-behaved--at first ... but there lurked a wild stare in his eye that
was almost a glaze ... and he hung on the bar and drank and drank and